


Cockblocked

by Demixian



Category: Book of Mormon
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-15 10:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4603122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demixian/pseuds/Demixian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elders Price and McKinley have been hitting it off recently and all they want is a moment alone, but their 'prophet' has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cockblocked

 

Dusk is slowly approaching and all of the other missionaries are gathered in the kitchen, merrily celebrating their 1 year anniversary in Uganda while two are in the district leader's room with the door closed. Over the course of the past year, Kevin Price and Connor McKinley have been developing quite the fondness for each other. They have not yet openly expressed any actual attraction to each other, at least not physically. They were just chatting and aimlessly walking around when they accidentally sauntered into Connor's room. They don't really know quite what they were intending to do, but they suddenly feel very shy, being alone in a room together instead of being surrounded by the other elders and having a reason to be modest about their relationship.

 

"So, um, a whole year, huh?" Connor says feebly. Kevin nods, looking anywhere but at his friend. 

 

"Haha, yeah. Pretty neat!" he replies. The awkwardness in the air is so potent they can practically smell it. 

 

"R-remember when I made you guys wear those bow ties on my birthday?" Connor asks, laughing slightly. They both chuckle mildly, remembering how, a few months ago, Connor forced everybody in District 9 to wear bow ties as his ultimate birthday present. "You guys looked hilarious."

 

"I don't know, I think mine suited me," Kevin says, absently fingering his collar where the bow tie had been. "Do you still have them?"

 

"Sure I do, but I'd rather save them for special occasions, like the fourth of july or something," Connor remarks, making a vague gesture to his closet. "Kind of funny how I keep all my bow ties in the closet, huh?"

 

"Huh? Oh, right, yeah…haha…" Kevin replies, laughing nervously. He doesn't know what he was expecting to happen when they closed the door, but he knows he wasn't expecting them to be making small talk and refusing to make eye contact with each other. 

 

"Um, Kevin?" Connor ventures, finally looking him straight in the eyes. "You know, you're a really great guy. Just thought I should say that."

 

"Oh, uh, th-thanks!" Kevin stammers, taken aback. His usual confident superciliousness has forsaken him for this awkward mess of a Kevin Price. The same seems to go for Connor, although he is usually the more modest one anyway. He tries his best to maintain eye contact with his friend, but for whatever reason he feels a stirring sensation in his stomach that makes him feel slightly queasy. This is such an odd, unfamiliar feeling. He has felt a little nervous and clumsy when around Connor before (but only recently, after they had silently acknowledged the mutual feeling of attraction and things got ridiculously awkward), but never like this. He supposes it's because he hasn't been in a room alone with him with the door closed, actively trying to get closer to him after a year of built up sexual tension. As they stare at each other unblinkingly, Connor begins to slowly move towards him.

And then Arnold walks in.

 

"Hey guys, do you know where the Yahtzee set is?" Arnold Cunningham asks, swinging open the door. Connor and Kevin, who are virtually inches apart, jump away from each other and aren't quite sure how to reply at first, the shock of being so suddenly interrupted having deafened them momentarily. Arnold was cleaning his glasses as he came in, and he puts them back on as he looks around the room for such a board game. 

 

"What? Huh? Oh, oh, um, yeah, one second," Connor mumbles, looking around his room and locating a shelf with board games piled up on it. He stumbles over to it and pulls out the Yahtzee box.

 

"Thanks!" Arnold says, taking it from him. "You gonna come play? What about you, Kev?"

 

"Uh, well…" Kevin begins, unsure of what to do. On one hand, he wouldn't want to let his best friend down, but on the other, this is probably the best time for him and Connor to start a possible relationship. Sure, they could always try tomorrow, but this is the district 9 official one year anniversary of being in Uganda. It's a special evening, and it would be a shame to miss the opportunity to maybe share a sentimental first kiss on the night of the district's anniversary.

 

"I…yeah, sure, why not?" Connor says, giving Arnold a friendly smile. 

 

"Yeah, of course!" Kevin agrees, grinning at his best friend. "Loser has to clean up!"

 

"Haha! Okay!" Arnold beams at them before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. Connor and Kevin share a brief look of exasperation before joining their bespectacled friend.

 

 

 

Once again, Kevin and Connor find themselves alone together. This time, they have met outside, just behind the hut. Kevin leans against the wall as Connor gleefully recites the lyrics of a particularly merry show tune. 

 

"And then it goes, um, I think it's like…" he mumbles, searching for the lyrics. 

 

"Isn't it 'I see German soldiers dancing through France, played by chorus boys in very tight pants'?" Kevin suggests, recalling the oh-so poetic lyrics of the song. Connor laughs, as does Kevin, and they then fall silent for a moment. An awkward silence is inevitable and Kevin braces himself for it.

 

"Kevin, do you mind if I ask you something kind of…personal?" Connor asks, breaking the silence swiftly. Kevin, slightly surprised, replies

 

"Uh, okay, I guess. Sure."

 

"Um…what exactly are you?"

 

"…a human being?" Kevin replies, slightly confused. "What do you mean?"

 

"Well, I just…I guess I don't really know what's going on between us, but I think we both like each other," Connor elaborates, looking down at his feet shyly.

 

"Well, yeah, I guess so."

 

"So…does that mean that you're…?" he ventures, finally looking up at Kevin.

 

"Oh, um, I guess I just never thought about that…" he replies, looking pensive all of a sudden. "I…I did sort of have a crush on my grade school teacher way back when…and he was a guy…so…I don't know."

 

"How could you be so unsure?" Connor asks. "I mean, I was pretty sure for myself ever since I was eleven."

 

"I have no idea, I guess I was so convinced that I was the perfect mormon that I didn't even consider it."

 

"Do you get why everybody in the village calls you conceited now?" Connor smirks, raising an eyebrow at his friend. 

 

"I got it when I had the book-- never mind," Kevin begins, but ultimately halts and recoils at the mere thought of it. "Trust me, I'm not running off to some warlord camp again."

 

"Good. That was pretty stupid," Connor says, crossing his arms. and smiling slightly. "You did lots of stupid things back then."

 

"As if I don't do stupid things now?" Kevin asks sarcastically. 

 

"You commit the occasionally dumb act,  you just don't get punished for it," Connor admits, fondly brushing a stray strand of hair away from Kevin's eyes. This small gesture is enough to make Kevin finally look up at his friend and make proper eye contact, only inches away from one another once more, just like the models on the cover of most young adult romance novels (he knows this because, as much as he denies it, Kevin is guilty of having had a secret obsession with them). They slowly, tenuously begin to move closer and closer until--

 

"And then jar jar comes in and-- Oh, hi Kevin! Hi Connor!" the two (now slightly irritated and simultaneously embarrassed) startled elders quickly jump apart from each other in a similar fashion to the previous night at the sound of their friend's voice, when they had last been interrupted. Kevin half wanted to exasperatedly exclaim "Give me a break!" but his better judgment makes him refrain from doing this. Arnold is a few feet away, walking down the path towards the road that leads to the market. Nabuluungi, his long-time girlfriend, is there with him, carrying an empty potato sack, presumably to carry the groceries. 

 

"Oh! Hi!" Connor greets them, praying that his embarrassment doesn't show. Arnold grins at them, walking over. 

 

"Me and Naba are going to the market, wanna come?" he asks, seemingly oblivious to everything, which comes as a great relief to both Connor and Kevin (it also raises the question of how Arnold could be so ignorant, but they both mentally decide not to question miracles). 

 

"Oh, we're fine, thanks," Kevin says, smiling and nodding politely. 

 

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

 

"No, we went last week. You and Nabuluungi have your fun!" Connor insists, smiling almost maniacally in an attempt to convince Arnold to just go.

 

"Aw, please, guys! We can think up some new cool Book of Arnold stories!" Arnold presses, giving a pleading look. Kevin sighs, glancing briefly at Connor.

 

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to go, huh?" he asks him. Connor shrugs and finally submits.

 

"Yeah, I guess." 

 

"Great! Follow me, I had this awesome idea for one about toilets…" Arnold begins. As Kevin and Connor tag along behind him, they give each other a similar look to yesterday, a mix of exasperation and very mild contempt for their good-natured but slightly boisterous friend, who is now babbling about somebody called Sauramon. 

 

 

 

Kevin collapses on the sofa, tired beyond belief. For the past week, he hasn't seen another human besides Arnold and Nabuluungi, having been busy writing Book of Arnold stories for them. A particular story has been fairing almost impossible to articulate properly. Locals from neighbouring villages have been reluctant to listen to the latter-day-saints who have been going mudhut-to-mudhut because they have bigger troubles on their hands; I.E, vicious lions coming in the night and eating their newborn children. All the missionaries' attempts, local to Uganda or not, were met with brickbats and contumely. Not the best response, Kevin admits. Arnold delegated the job of writing a story about a vicious baby-eating lion for The Book of Arnold and he has no idea what to write. He was born to be a great mormon, not a writer, gosh darn it. Then again, its not as if he was very successful in the former department. Connor is in the kitchen, filling a bowl up with potato chips and humming some song that Kevin doesn't have the energy to recognise. 

 

"Somebody's looking tired, what on earth have you been doing?" Connor asks, popping a couple of chips in his mouth and walking over to the sofa.

 

"I've been up all night, every night, all week. Been trying to write this dumb fable about lions or something. So far, no luck," Kevin replies, rubbing his temples. The so-called 'texting machine' sitting on his lap. Connor pulls out the piece of paper that has been slotted into it and reads the two or so lines typed up on it.

 

"Joseph Smith met a lion on his journeys and the lion did try to eat him. But he said 'Don't do that' and so it didn't…?" Connor reads aloud, laughing towards the end. 'What?"

 

"I got bored of trying to think of a story so I just wrote that as a joke, hasn't helped," Kevin explains, taking the paper and ripping it up. 

 

"Want a chip?" Connor asks, presenting Kevin the bowl. Kevin takes a large handful and shoves them into his mouth without a second thought.

 

"I haven't eaten anything all day," he says, mouth full. "What flavour are these?"

 

"Uuuum," Connor stalls, getting up to check the bag. "Zebra meat flavoured?"

 

"Ugh, you know what? I don't care. I just need food," Kevin says, taking another handful. Connor walks back to the couch and frowns at the empty bowl sitting next to Kevin.

 

"Um…so, do you want some help?" he offers.

 

"I just want to take a break, but Arnold keeps telling me that we need to finish it by Monday. It's Sunday, Connor."

 

"I know, I know. Well, do you want some help or not?" Connor asks.

 

"Maybe you could transcribe what I say or something," Kevin suggests, picking the typewriter up and passing it to Connor. 

 

"Alright, well lets start with the moral," Connor begins. "What was the moral again?" 

 

"I have no idea," Kevin admits. 

 

"How about…keep your children near to you?"

 

"We literally made an entire chapter about NOT doing that in the same book, we don't want to look like hypocrites."

 

"True, true. Okay, how about…um…keep firearms nearby?"

 

"That sort of goes against our whole anti-guns thing. Why'd Arnold have to go and put that bit in there anyway?"

 

"This is gonna be really hard if you keep being so picky, you know.," Connor says, crossing his arms.

 

"Fine, what are your ideas, then?" Kevin snaps back, raising an eyebrow. Connor pauses for a moment, still with an expression of determination on his face.

 

"Let's start somewhere else," he ultimately decides, picking up a piece of blank paper from the table and slotting it into the typewriter. The two young men tirelessly work away at the story, throwing ideas back and forth, sometimes finding the right words and other times leaning on the brink of just giving up.

 

"…But it's not in character for Mufasa to eat a baby."

 

"Kevin, this isn't Lion King fan fiction, it's not supposed to be accurate to the film. I don't think most of the locals will have even seen or heard of that movie. We're just using Mufasa as an example of a lion, okay?"

 

"Still, can't we call him Scar?"

 

"Fine, Scar, Simba, whatever. So, Scar's in Mulan's house. What now?"

 

"How about Mulan takes out a katana and--" Kevin begins, but stops midway as he gives Connor an exasperated look. As he tries to stifle his laughter, Connor coughs and replies

 

"Ahem, Kev, we can't get too silly, now."

 

"Oh, because using two fictional characters from Disney movies is totally sensible," Kevin asks sarcastically, crossing his arms. Connor's laughing dies down a bit and he says

 

"Why doesn't she take a flame thrower?"

 

"Or a Chinese firework?" Kevin jokes.

 

"Or a ninja star?"

 

"Or maybe a pot noodle?" this final fake suggestion sets both of them off giggling hysterically like a pair of schoolgirls. Connor realises that he accidentally hit some buttons in his giggling fit on the typewriter, and groans.

 

"Great, I messed this copy up."

 

"Aw, don't rip it up, I think I've got some white crayons around her somewhere."

 

"You took crayons with you on a mission?" Connor asks, a little incredulously.

 

"Hey, don't judge me! You never know what you'll need in Uganda," Kevin replies indignantly, disappearing into his room and emerging a few moments later, holding a box of chalks.

 

"Alright, then, you weirdo. Give it here."

 

"Don't break them, these things cost a bundle," Kevin says, gently tossing the box to Connor. After taking one out, he begins gently colouring in the mistake. 

 

'You sure this won't mess with the stamper thingy?" Connor asks, carefully colouring out an unneeded lowercase 'm'.

 

"I'm sure. Saw it on Pinterest."

 

'Huh?"

 

"Nevermind. Listen, I'm sorry that I haven't talked to you in a while," Kevin begins, sitting down on the sofa again. "This thing has just been taking main priority over everything else thanks to Arnold."

 

"That's okay," Connor assures him, smiling softly. "You can't blame the guy for being enthusiastic."

 

"Yeah, I mean, he's my best friend and I would probably die for him to be honest, but he can be kind of…intrusive?" 

 

"It's not his fault, we don't spend enough time with him, anyway."

 

"Maybe YOU don't, but I've been with him 24/7 for the last week. I thought being excommunicated from the church meant we didn't have to follow the rules so strictly anymore?" Kevin complains, resting his head on his hand. 

 

"Aw, come on, Kev. It's not that bad, Arnold's a prophet, after all. I thought prophets were your biggest kink?" Connor teases, nudging his friend. Kevin playfully shoves him, unable to hold a scowl for long. 

 

"I still feel ripped off, you know. I was the one who was supposed to become a prophet."

 

"I guess it is a shame," Connor admits. "But then again, I find prophet's are always so preachy, and that's sort of a turn-off for me." This remark causes a slight smile to creep across Kevin's face. 

 

"But arrogance and overconfidence isn't?" he questions sarcastically.

 

"You aren't like that anymore," Connor responds, sliding a hand around Kevin's shoulder assuringly. 

 

"Who said we were talking about me?" Kevin asks, smirking.

 

"When are we ever NOT talking about you in conversation?" Connor retorts.

 

"I guess you have a point," Kevin agrees. He notices that Connor's arm is still loosely lying across his back and over his shoulder, and doesn't want to break the conversation here. "Do you really believe I'm not as conceited as before? I mean, I can be one cocksure little S.O.B when I feel like it."

 

"We all have our flaws," Connor states, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "I think it's sweet that you think so highly of yourself. I read somewhere that a high self-esteem is actually a good trait to have when doing office jobs, because being assertive makes you work more efficiently and--"

 

"Cut it out," Kevin interjects, rolling his eyes.

 

"What? It's true. Unless you don't want an office job, but I think that aesthetic would really suit you."

 

"Actually, I don't know exactly what I wanted to do as a job after my mission. I had my whole life planned out except for that. I had a fantasy of being, like, a policeman something but that was really just sort of a Kindergarten 'What do you want to do when you're older" thing."

 

"Well, you know what the Book of Arnold says. The only latter day that matters--"

 

"--Is tomorrow, yeah, yeah, you don't need to get all preachy on me." Kevin interjects. "I guess that you're right, though. We should really stop worrying about the future so much. I have a whole 'nother year with you guys before I need to worry about anything back home."

 

"I don't think a year is enough," Connor practically whispers.

 

"Then what are we doing wasting time?" Kevin asks, also in a hushed tone. 

 

Just outside, Arnold Cunningham is inches away from the door.

 

"Ah! Arnold! There you are!" Comes a voice from behind him. Arnold swivels around to see Elder Brian Davis standing there, holding a cookbook.

 

"Have you seen Chris or James anywhere?" he asks, referring to the former Elders Thomas and Church. 

 

"Oh, gee, uh, no. Why?"

 

"Well, it's really Chris I need to find. I found this African cuisine cookbook at the store and I thought he'd like it. He's been complaining about how we never cook anything 'authentic'."

 

"Oh, well I'll go check if he's inside," Arnold says, his hand on the doorknob.

 

"Actually, Arnold, I know he won't be at home because he told me this morning that he'd be out all day and to put his mail in his room," Brian says. "I was just wondering if you'd seen him around."

 

"Oh, well I think he'd probably be back by now, don't you think?" Arnold says. "I'll bet you that he's back now, I'll just--"

 

"Are you sure you haven't seen him around town?" Brian insists. Arnold's hand is firmly holding onto the doorknob, ready to twist. 

 

"I think so," he says, suddenly letting go to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "Me and Naba were out a while ago, looking after the kids at Kimbe's place. They're so cute. Didn't see him anywhere."

 

"Well, thanks for trying, anyway. See you later, Arnold!" Brian says, giving his friend a smile before walking off. Arnold turns back around and confidently twists the doorknob. The door doesn't budge.

 

"Huh?'" Arnold exclaims. "Must be stuck," he mutters, twisting and pushing it more forcefully. It finally jolts open with a low popping sound.  He strides inside, closing the door behind him. 

 

"Hi guys! How are you--" he begins, but his voice falters as he sees a quite startling sight. What sight could possibly render the notoriously talkative Arnold Cunningham? Evidently the sight of his best friend and the former district leader passionately kissing each other on the sofa. He tries to stutter out a sound of surprise but no such sound leaves his lips. He isn't disgusted or angry or even confused, he's simply taken by surprise. He'd never had any idea that they liked each other. It wasn't as if anything about their behaviour had pointed towards them possibly being attracted to each other. This was totally out of the blue. 

Arnold awkwardly tries to creep silently over to his room, but with each step the floor creaks louder than a lion's roar (something he has researched extensively). The two young men on the sofa abruptly break apart, finally awoken from their trance.

 

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," Connor stammers, realising that Arnold has clearly seen what just happened. Kevin says nothing, too embarrassed, or maybe too shocked, to speak.

 

"Hiiii guuuuyyyys," Arnold greets them, dragging his words out. All three of them are blushing profusely, Connor and Kevin especially. Connor is grasping the sides of his head and looking down at his feet to avoid eye contact with anybody. Kevin's eyes are as wide as saucers, looking practically mortified. Arnold simply looks embarrassed to have walked in on them.

 

"Oh gosh, oh gosh," Connor continues to mutter, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "Oh my gosh."

 

"Um, I'm just going to go to my room and write some more, can I have the typewriter, Kevin?" Arnold asks. Kevin slowly nods, still flushed and looking mortified. He hands Arnold the typewriter and slowly sits back again, his stare falling down to the floor. As Arnold disappears into his room, Connor and Kevin slowly look over to one another. After a moment's glance at each other's beet red faces, they burst out laughing.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you bottle up your McPriceley spirit -- you write cheesy fanfiction about them.


End file.
